Quietly Breaking, Breaking the Chains
by TutorGirlml
Summary: A divergent take on the finale; One determined pirate will not be separated from his wife, and the quest that brings them together again...


_Hello hello, everyone! I'm sorry it has been so long since I've posted any oneshots. I have been participating as much as possible in the CS Hiatus Challenge over on Tumblr, and that has been keeping me busy. However, I couldn't abandon this one. I started it the week after the finale, mostly because I wanted CS to have a True Love's Kiss, I wanted Killian to get to go rescue his wife, and I just wanted them to have more scenes together considering the changes coming next season. Anyway, one particular scene came to me and the rest of the story filled in around it. I hope there will be some folks interested who will enjoy reading it, despite me letting a month go by before it got finished. It goes canon divergent from where Killian and Charming are climbing down the beanstalk and in how Emma gets out of the Black Fairy's institution, but everything in canon up to that point still occurred. Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear what you think!_

" _Quietly Breaking, Breaking the Chains"_

 _By: TutorGirlml (snowbellewells on Tumblr)_

 _i. down the rabbit hole_

A wailing, screaming, shuddering panic whirled within her mind, clawing up her throat, churning in her gut. The dingy cinder block walls, never exuding safety or comfort, but at least a familiar boredom, were suddenly closing in on her, enough so that she wanted to shrink back into herself, but the one small bit of pride she had left refused to cower before the exultant face studying her, waiting for just that.

"What is it going to be, Dear?" the Mayor practically licked her lips, face moving once again from her strange preoccupation with the flames in the incinerator to the book in Emma's hands, to hold Emma's gaze one again. "If it is truly only a children's book, if it is hurting our son, it shouldn't be so difficult to simply rid us of it once and for all. Come now, you don't want to move backwards, be kept in here forever and never see Henry at all, do you?"

The older woman's voice was syrup-sweet, and she wore a look of knowing concern on her face, but it didn't lessen the tremor of alarm that ran through Emma. Fiona was dangerous – it had always seemed so – though Emma couldn't explain it. As long as she could remember she had felt it, for as long as she had been in this place and endured the Mayor's patronizing visits. Fiona reached forward, as if to help Emma, to make the task easier, but as soon as those sharply manicured fingertips touched the worn leather of Henry's book, it was like an electric shock of realization ran through Emma. _'No! She can't!'_ her mind screamed, suddenly finding it imperative that the book of fairytales didn't burn.

Jerking away from the woman's grasp, desperate to save her son's prized possession, Emma stumbled, losing her balance and sending the heavy tome careening to the floor, pages flapping. With a slap, the book landed heavily, open to a page that showed a dark-haired man with kohl-lined blue eyes staring out at her, capturing Emma in a way she didn't understand. She bent to her knees, pulling the illustration closer as images flashed through her head so quickly she was overwhelmed. "Killian…" she whispered softly, certain at last that she knew the man in the picture, somehow. Her tentative, wistful fingers reached out to trace the sculpted features of this man dressed in leather, who inexplicably appeared to be a pirate on the high seas – at least they did until the Mayor's surprisingly strong grasp caught her wrist.

"Now, now, Dearie, let's not go through this again. You know as well as I that the people in there aren't real." Fiona moved to take the storybook from her, but Emma pushed it away, shielding it behind her own body.

"You can't!" she exclaimed, a surge of energy pulsing through her veins, feeling more herself and more alive than she could recall.

"I warned you of indulging these delusions again," Fiona purred. With a snap of her fingers, two burly orderlies appeared out of nowhere, seeming to materialize form the shadows of the room. Emma tensed to fight, but in her muscle-weakened, medication-blurred state, she didn't stand much of a chance, sadly not even remembering her magic. She got in a wicked kick at one and a punch which glanced off the meaty shoulder of the other, but soon they had her pinned and writhing helplessly in their grasp, holding her for Fiona as she stepped forward with a syringe in hand, malicious smile on her face.

Patting Emma's cheek in a way that made her skin crawl, though at the moment she was powerless to brush off, Fiona hissed right in her face, "Why must you fight me, Miss Swan? I will still have my way in the end, but now you will suffer instead of having your freedom to go in peace." She gave her two henchmen a nod, and their grip on Emma tightened further.

Emma bucked wildly, screaming her frustration, anger, and fear to the solid walls that only trapped her alarm and echoed it back, unheard by any who could help her. She kept struggling vainly, the beautiful blue gaze of the man in the book now in her head and her heart, begging her not to give up. But then she felt the needle's prick, and it took frighteningly little time for her body to numb and fail her. She was still aware, but unable to move at all when she was carried from the room and taken back to her cell on Fiona's cackled orders.

 _ii. up the beanstalk_

As the beanstalk began to fall, Killian's gaze flew to his father-in-law, clinging with clenched jaw and determined grip to his side of the vine-y tower. The whole thing wobbled precariously, shaking and swaying back and forth in the breeze; it wasn't going to hold. Pirate and prince's eyes met across the green, knotted leaves and sprouts and both knew it without speaking. If the wrong sudden tilt or dip didn't cause a foot to slip loose and make them tumble, the whole thing was about to crash to the ground on its own.

Bile rose in Killian's throat, his heart racing painfully at the idea that this truly was the end; he wasn't going to make it back to Emma and Henry, or be there to help her in what she faced. He had been so rash, so foolish, and now Swan's father, his friend and rightful monarch, would pay the price for his recklessness as well. Swallowing down the sour despair and self-loathing, tightening his slipping grip, Killian searched frantically for another way down, a loophole, some chance to still save them – he _was_ a survivor after all – when Dave called out to him over the ominous creaking from their wavering perch and the wind in their ears. "Do you still have the bean?"

Killian looked up at the other man's question, surprised, but plunged his hook more securely into its hold and put his hand in the inner pocket of his vest where he had stowed his plunder for safekeeping. "Aye," he affirmed, fingers closing around it tightly.

"Then toss it," Dave called, his voice strong and certain – a truly fearless leader, stopping just short of issuing a command, but forcing Killian to see the only way he hadn't wanted to consider. "You'll land in the portal and get back to her. What are you waiting for?"

Killian's throat closed even more tightly, forcing him to choke out his response and reveal just how much it cost him. "What? You expect me to just leave you here to die, when you're only in this spot because of my bloody daft idea?"

The Prince eyed him knowingly, his small smile cold comfort in the weighted moment. "I can't go with you, even if we could both hit the portal at a jump, not with this world crumbling to pieces. I can't leave Snow behind. If I fall, I fall. Honestly, I'd prefer that over cowering somewhere while the ground disintegrates beneath my feet."

Killian nodded, a short, tight bob of the head, acknowledging his agreement with Dave's words, but his jaw clenched tightly, still hating the option despite its sense. And yet, he didn't have time to waste. If he refused to use the bean, they were both lost; their effort for naught, and his Swan – _his wife_ – would still be back in her world without them. He could feel her desperation thrumming under his breastbone, right beside his own heart, a part of him as surely as skin or sinew.

"Aye, of course you're right, Mate," he gritted through clenched teeth, readying himself as the beanstalk creaked and tilted wildly again, nearly shaking him loose too soon. "Here goes nothing."

Dave held his gaze for a long moment, as if cementing his determination and approval to his son-in-law for strength. "You'll make it, Pirate," he said solidly, a hint of their joking and long ago rivalry in his words. "Go take care of our girl. I'll be alright."

The pirate captain knew the other man was merely feigning casual bravery; that his survival of this tenuous situation was anything but certain, and yet he had no recourse. "I'll not stop until I am at her side," he vowed.

The prince smiled tensely, a nod of acceptance that needed no further discussion.

Without another moment's hesitation, Killian pulled his arm back, magic bean in his fist, and threw it forward, releasing at just the right moment, watching it fall in a perfect arc. He readied himself to leap, waiting for the telltale swirling of a portal to open far below him. Taking one last deep breath, the captain steadied himself, pushed away from the stalk, and let himself fall, praying that when he landed he would once again be in the same realm as his True Love.

~~~~~~8888888888~~~~~~

When the sky opened to dump him heavily on the rough cement of Storybrooke's Main Street, Killian barely flinched, despite the pain on impact. He was so relieved to be back in the land he had adopted as home, back where his Swan awaited him, that he barely felt the cuts to his palm from the rugged surface, the dizziness of his portal fall, or the roiling of his stomach. He stood stiffly; testing his limbs to make sure nothing was broken, and glanced around hopefully for a sign of which way to go. However, though no sign of his Swan greeted him, as he made his way down the eerily deserted street, wandering toward the home they shared with Henry for lack of anywhere else to start, the lad found him.

"Killian!" Henry's tense voice cut through the evening air, ringing stridently in the quiet that would normally be broken by passing cars, people chatting on the sidewalk, dogs barking, but instead only heightened the paranoia he felt, as if the very breeze was hovering over them, watching and waiting.

The pirate immediately turned at the sound of his stepson calling to him, the sound of the lad's shoes slapping on the pavement growing louder and louder until the teen slammed into him, lanky arms wrapping around his waist and holding on tightly. For a moment, the relief almost overwhelmed the centuries older man; his chest tightening as he encircled Henry's wiry shoulders and clung to him just as desperately. He loved this boy, just as he loved the lad's mother, and only prayed he could offer some modicum of comfort as Henry heaved in a deep breath muffled against Killian's chest to disguise what would otherwise be a hiccupping sob.

When the lad pulled away to look up at his stepdad, his bright, intelligent eyes were wet but equally clear and determined as well. "I'm glad you're here," Henry stated seriously. "I need your help. I know where Mom is, but…but I can't get through to her." His voice wavered slightly, but he pressed on, clamping his mouth shut after he finished to stop the wobbling of his chin. "Now, th-they won't even let me in to see her."

Killian gave him a quick nod of affirmation, hoping to assure Emma's son that everything would be fine. He put his hook on Henry's shoulder and clasped the boy's upper arm with his good hand. "Well then, lead me to her. We _will_ get to her – whatever it takes. Don't you doubt that for a second."

Henry bobbed his head in agreement and set off, headed toward what Hook had always known to be the town's bustling center, where the hospital and town hall were located. Still, they encountered no traffic, and the few people they saw peered suspiciously from the windows or glared at them outright in passing. They were still so few and far between as to send a foreboding shiver down both Author and sailor's spines. _'What had the Black Fairy done to their home?'_ Killian wondered as they hurried on.

Upon reaching the hospital, Henry cautioned him to be quiet and move swiftly before they snuck in a side entrance for housekeeping staff and carefully made their way down several floors to the basement level by sneaking into stairwells, elevators, and around corners when nurse stations were deserted and orderlies had their backs turned. They reached the dank, underground, almost bunker-like segment of the hospital, the one most knew of but had never laid eyes on, which served as an asylum. The two had used their wits and a clever trick to reach this place once before, but the situation felt even more troubling this time. A chill ran through Killian at the thought of his wife being locked down here in the cold, dark labyrinth of cement and metal doors with barely a window in their stark faces. ' _How long had it seemed to her? Did she believe she had been abandoned and forgotten once more?'_

"Emma doesn't bloody belong here!" he spat in a harsh whisper, anger making him clench his fist in helpless fury.

"I know that, Killian," Henry tried to soothe, anxiety making his throat almost too dry to speak through and his pulse racing at triple speed, hoping his stepdad could keep himself in check long enough for them to get his mom out of there for good. "But Fiona even has her half-convinced she's unstable. I knew I was right, that I had to make Mom believe again… but no one would listen to me."

"That ends now," Killian swore, holding Henry's gaze resolutely until he saw the youth accept it as truth and knew he was no longer fighting alone. "Show me where she is, and we will get her out of here _right now_."

Like they had done in Isaac's skewed alternate universe and in this very basement after Emma had vanished with the Darkness, they worked like a well-oiled machine; once Henry had shown him which room he last knew his mother to be in, the lad had waltzed up to the nurse on duty, completely distracting her in conversation that even the dour old battleaxe couldn't worm out of – the two guards standing at Emma's room door drawn over as well, just as they had hoped. Now was his chance, and Killian didn't waste it, slipping behind them all the moment Henry's enthusiastic gestures had them looking the other way, snagging the key off the wall hanger and slipping into the room Henry had indicated as his mom's without a moment's pause or fumble.

However, upon slipping into the cell and pulling the door closed behind him to hide his presence, Killian was frozen stock still by the sight that met his eyes. He had found his wife, but the woman before him on a hospital bed next to the wall in the stark room, was hardly recognizable as his fiery, beautiful Swan. She barely moved, even as he let out an unconscious groan of her name and stumbled forward to reach her. Glassy, unfocused eyes turned to study him, but no expression enlivened their depths.

So struck dumb – both violently angry and saddened near tears by Emma's unresponsive state – it took Killian a few minutes to take in the rest of the horrifying tableau that surrounded her, and when he did, he was sorry, as it indicated a nightmarish reality to which she had been subjected.

Finally snapped from the appalled trance that had struck him, Killian took several more steps forward, still gauging Emma for a reaction even as he catalogued signs of the injustice done to her. The room was so dim he wondered if she could really even see who had entered; the only light came from a high, barred window that allowed a mere shaft of sun into the shadowed interior. He saw a calendar and pictures affixed to the wall before a rickety desk – strange red Xs he couldn't fathom the meaning of marking through certain dates at random. But his heart broke for her at the pictures and messages posted alongside them. _"Must Accept Reality"_ blared the largest, which came before a picture of her parents, one of Henry, and one of himself, all slashed through in black marker with a harsh, succinct warning of _"Not Real"_ scrawled along with it. On the desk was a large and wicked-looking syringe for administering medicine, as he had learned from his own time as a patient following his unfortunate run-in a car. He immediately distrusted the array of bottles and pills on the surface along with the needle however, somehow sensing that these had been used to render Emma the nearly insensate shadow of herself he saw before him.

He couldn't help going to her after that, hoping to offer some solace in the obvious proof that he did exist, as did her parents and her son. As he came to stand before her, he finally sensed her vision clearing just a bit. Blinking ever so slowly, she swallowed before her mouth moved, working almost lethargically to make some sound escape. Then, almost inaudibly soft, he heard her sweet voice, "Y-You…you're real." The smallest flicker of recognition flared in her gaze, and then, shattering his last defense, a single tear trekked silently down her cheek. Her arm moved as if to reach for him and make sure he was there, but was jerked back by what he suddenly saw were restraints cuffing each wrist to a side rail of the bed. Rage flooded his system afresh at how panicked and helpless his strong, take-charge wife must have felt at being physically tied down, at least until she was drugged into docility, as he was now certain she had been.

His good hand fisted until his nails drew blood in his palm, but he didn't stop. Fearing she might retreat back into the stupor she'd been lost in, he fell to his knees beside her, reaching out to brush her tear away. "Oh Emma," he breathed, forcing tenderness to his hoarse tone, despite the turmoil rioting inside, and already fumbling to loosen the cuffs that held her, "Love, what have they done to you?"

 _iii. together again_

The dark-haired man with eyes blue as the sea was standing there in front of her. Emma blinked disbelievingly, trying to clear her vision and convince her mind to stop playing these games, but the arresting stranger didn't go anywhere, his deep gaze holding her captive even more strongly than it had from the pages of Henry's book. She thought that she tried to speak, to ask him if he was real, but everything felt so sluggish and muted. Whatever the shot they had given her was, it had rendered her almost immobile, and made it hard to think. Her head felt disjointed from her body.

She knew she tried to reach out for him, but something held her back, and in the fog of her brain and vision, she wasn't sure what. He must have heard her anyway, or understood her intention, because despite her thwarted attempt, he came closer. In fact, he fell to his knees beside her bed, and she saw pain and caring and fear for her in his eyes as he wiped the tear she hadn't even felt fall from her cheek. She heard him speak her name – such emotion in the lilt of it, had her name ever sounded that lovely before? Something about it was familiar, just as the illustration of him had been.

Then, he was fumbling to free her wrists. _Why was she fastened to the bed? And why couldn't she remember?_ Terror began to latch onto her, and she was doing all she could not to fall apart, her mind crawling at putting events and pieces of memory together, but racing in anxiety and the feeling that she had been so trapped and out of it at the same time. It was almost a blessing for her handsome rescuer that her body wasn't responding correctly to her brain's signals, or he might have earned a punch or kick in self-defense, just for being so close before she could gather her wits about her.

She found herself calming though once freed, and he soothed her in a low murmur, running gentle fingers and what felt like smooth, cool metal over the raw, reddened skin of her wrists. Soon he was brushing her hair back from her face and rising taller on his knees to look her in the eyes searchingly. "Are you alright, Darling? Are you hurt anywhere else? Can you tell me what you need, Love?"

For whatever reason, however she knew him or thought she did, Emma wanted nothing more than to fall into his arms, cling to him and never let go. Yet, even in her weakened, confused condition, she couldn't quite beg, "Just hold me please," and so nothing came out. She simply stared at him, hoping against frantic hope that she wouldn't blink to find him gone, alone again in her hopeless void.

"It's going to be alright now, Swan. I've got you. You're going to be fine," he promised.

Though she didn't know much else, Emma believed him and took him at his word. When he leaned forward and kissed her at the end of his vow, it didn't feel strange, but right. She didn't flinch away; instead she closed her eyes and welcomed it. The rainbow light that burst and illuminated the air behind her eyelids may have meant she'd completely lost it, but she didn't care. She was rocked to the core with a joy and exhilaration she had never known; it would have blown her off her feet if she had been standing. Opening her eyes, Emma met his equally stunned gaze, all the pieces falling into place.

She gasped for air as the world shifted, her strength returned, her brain cleared, and the curse was lifted from her shoulders. True Love's Kiss had at last gifted its magic to them. "Killian," she whispered adoringly, tracing his beloved face with her fingertips and wondering how she had ever managed to forget him. "You found me."

~~~~~~8888888888~~~~~~

He knew that they needed to move, that he could explain later, but for now they had to get out. Neither he nor Henry had magic to fight their way through with her if they were discovered. And yet, seeing Emma so weakened and lost; confused, drugged, and imprisoned, he couldn't bring himself to push her or order her to do anything – even for her own good. Instead, Killian merely freed her hands, unable to stop touching her, so relieved he had found her and that she was in his arms again.

Though she did seemed pleased to see him and some hint of recognition now shone on her face, Killian also sensed that it wasn't a complete knowledge of who he was to her, of their shared history and their connection as husband and wife. For that reason, he valiantly restrained himself, limiting his touches to the skin of her abused wrists, smoothing the wildly matted hair off her face, and wiping away the tear that nearly undid him. Woe to Gold's wretch of a mother if he got hold of her first. What she had done to his love was inexcusable, and the only thing that kept his blood from boiling over was his need for gentleness in the face of Emma's distress.

Despite his best intentions, he did end up holding her to him, easing the cool curve of his hook up and down her spine and allowing her to cling to him and bury her head in his chest. She was shaking slightly, tremors running throughout her body, and he worried again just what had been given to her and what aftereffects might have yet to appear. It would break Henry's heart to see her this way, and Killian dreaded it, but he couldn't in good conscience leave the lad out there as decoy alone much longer. He found himself murmuring calming words against Emma's cheek, promising all would be well, though he was not at all sure how to make it true.

So when she pulled back to look up at him and hope lit in her eyes, along with trust in him and his protection writ large on her face which had always been so tough and self-reliant, he realized he shouldn't have been at all surprised that his heart stopped and restarted again before he pulled her in for a kiss he couldn't contain.

What did stun him, after all the times they had kissed and then had to find another way, the other modes of confirmation and the unspoken disappointments at previous attempts, was the way the world rocked at the impact of their lips. The whoosh of wind he felt swirl around him and the dazzling light that almost blinded him. Somehow, finally, they had been granted the fairytale stamp of approval like her parents before them. His heart soared despite the fear, pain, and anger of the past hours – True Love's Kiss.

The awed whisper of his name on her tongue let him know that much had been set right – her memory and awareness returned to her. Not sure whether to laugh or cry at her stunned repetition of her mother's long ago realization "You found me", he merely held her tighter, placed a kiss to her brow, and smirked briefly, hoping his mate would now be back soon to mock him for it as he gave his own version of the familiar response. "Did you truly doubt I would, Darling?"

Relief seeped into his bones as everything within him slid back to its rightful place, and the world seemed to stop shaking with the threat of destruction from her lost belief. Henry burst into the room behind them and flung his arms around them both, where he was welcomed into the midst of their laughing, crying, locked together heap on her bed. For the moment, for now at least, nothing would tear them apart.

~~~~~~8888888888~~~~~~

From there, things were set right quickly; her devious plan thwarted and genuine reality again restored, the Black Fairy was dealt with in a way that made the havoc she had wrought hard to believe. Killian marveled that her demise had not come about by his own hand or hook after the distress and horror she had caused Emma, but at the moment of truth, Charming had held him back, and it had only taken a second for Killian to know it was right. His mate had merely said he was returning a reminder about vengeance that Killian had offered him, and both knew exactly what was meant. It was, in the end, by her crooked son's own hand that the dark fairy was vanquished. With her evil influence removed and his heart restored, Gideon was returned to his parents a babe once more, for better or for worse the Crocodile's happy ending restored along with Belle's. The rest of their family was returned to them from the other realm, almost as soon as they had exited the hospital, the final confrontation taking place on Main Street. None of the realms they knew had crumbled, thanks to he and Henry's success in restoring the Savior's belief.

Yet none of that or the clean-up, explanations, and details left to be ironed out, mattered as much to Killian in the wake of the Final Battle as did Emma in his arms, walking beside him up the front steps to their home. His first, and in truth only, priority was to see that she was taken care of. That she felt herself again, and knew they would be just fine, that she felt safe and loved, and knew he was still at her side and she wasn't alone, were his only objectives.

Emma told him everything of the false world and circumstances while they had been sent away. How she had doubted herself, doubted Henry, even doubted her own sanity and what she knew to be real. She choked on the words occasionally – guilt, hurt, and a false sense of responsibility threatening to drown her, but Killian merely held her, both arms around her as they sat against the headboard of their bed, her back leaning against his front, his lips and his scruff brushing over her bare shoulder in repeated reassurances that it wasn't her fault, there was nothing she could have done, that no one blamed her, and that she had still managed to save them in the end. It was not the honeymoon night they might have wished for, but the healing together bound them closer all the same.

Eventually, Emma felt some peace, and they lay down, still wrapped around each other, to sleep, hoping against hope that they were tangled up with each other so tightly that if something tried to steal between them again in the night it would prove impossible. Kilian's chest ached for her when she woke in the still-dark early morning gasping for breath from a vivid nightmare, but he sadly was not surprised after what she had gone through.

Turning to face him, still in the circle of his arms, Emma stroked her finger through the dark hair covering his chest until her hand rested atop his heart, in a gesture he had come to adore, both for its protectiveness and its possessiveness as well. "Even when I didn't know who you were to me, or why, I still wanted you near…wanted you safe," she breathed against his skin. "You were still there inside me somehow."

Killian pressed his lips to the back of her neck, mumbling "good" as she shivered at the intimate touch. "I would be lost without you…if you ever forgot and left me behind." He said no more, simply held her until her breathing evened out in slumber once more, and he began to drift off himself. This time had to be the true beginning for them; their time for peace and happiness after so many trials. Nothing could break them apart; as long as they both should live.


End file.
